


All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

by King of Hell (winchesterswag)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: For the most part, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Kindergarten, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Paternal Bobby Singer, Single Parent Castiel, Teacher Dean, and this is my first multi-chapter be nice, discussion about death, don't worry it's happy, other random character's get mentioned/have names dropped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesterswag/pseuds/King%20of%20Hell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's a kindergarten teacher with  not-so-pleasant past. His days are filled with glitter and snacks and smiling kids. Castiel is a single dad whose daughter happens to be in Dean's class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Isn't College, It's Kindergarten

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever multi-chapter fic so I hope it doesn't suck. New chapters will be up on Wednesdays (not necessarily consecutive Wednesdays) 
> 
> Updates on the progess will be on my [Tumblr](http://knightsofcain.tumblr.com/)

The rain was coming down hard as Dean Winchester pulled his car into park outside Lawrence Elementary. He grabbed his bag, took a deep breath, and walked in through the front doors. He was ready for another year, except this time it was with kindergarteners. He hoped the weather would clear up; storms on the first day of school isn’t usually a good sign.

“Daddy! I’m scared.” The little girl clung to her father’s leg as if starting kindergarten was most frightful thing that could ever happen to her. Last night she had told him that even the ‘monsters in her closet were scared of Kindergarten, but he knew that she didn’t believe in those sort of things.

“Grace, you’ll be fine. I made it through kindergarten, didn’t I?” Her father met her blue eyes with his own as he knelt down and lifted her off his leg.

“Hi, I’m Mr. Winchester- is everything okay?” A man in a pair of dark slim jeans and a green Henley shirt with the buttons undone and the sleeves pushed up, approached the duo. Faint freckles blended into his skin and hid behind his scruff as a cheerful smile broke out across his face.

“She’s just a bit nervous, first day and all.” Her father placed her back down to the floor but she immediately grabbed his leg again. Mr. Winchester knelt down to her level.

“What’s your name?” He asked calmly.

“Grace,” she replied shyly.

“Ya know what, Grace? You’re not the only one who’s nervous. It’s my first day too.”

“Really?” She stepped a few inches away from her father, but still held on.

“Really, really. It’s also everyone else’s first day too. So why don’t you say goodbye to your dad, go place your backpack and lunch on those hooks over there,” he gestured behind him, “and find your seat. There’s a sticker with your name on it on one of the tables.”

“Okay,” she said slowly as her father hugged her tight and kissed her forehead and then she walked away into the classroom.

“I’m Castiel Novak, by the way.” Her dad offered a hand and Mr. Winchester took it.

“Dean Winchester, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire.”

“I can see that. Is it really your first day?” Mr. Novak asked. His outfit was mostly hidden by a tan trench coat so that all Dean could really see was a white shirt and crooked tie. _Must be a businessman_ , he thought when he noticed the suit hiding underneath.

“Yeah, with kindergartners at least. I taught first grade down the hall for the past few years. It’s funny, usually it’s the parents who are more nervous, yet you seem very calm…” It was more an observation than anything else.

“Well I haven’t had my coffee yet, maybe that’s why?” Castiel offered as an explanation.

“Maybe,” Dean muttered, and as Castiel began to turn away he rushed to add,“she’s in good hands!” He smiled as the man walked out the door.

\---------------------------

It was 9:30 by the time Dean had gotten the sixteen four and five year-olds seated, calmed down, and their parents out the door - which was an hour and a half later than the day was supposed to start. He had parents apologizing for being late, parents taking twenty minutes to say goodbye. He had a few parents remind him that ‘Ian has a peanut allergy’. 

“It’s not that bad, he just can’t eat them,” they would say, or that, “Claire has asthma,” and so on. It wasn’t like Dean had read over all their medical information the night before or anything.

Dean clapped his hands once, twice, three, four times before the students caught on and stopped their chatter. “I’m Mr. Winchester, and welcome to Lawrence Elementary.” He smiled; he was happy to be back, even if he wasn’t teaching first grade this year. In all honesty, he had always liked the kindergartners better. Most of them had yet to learn the skill of talking back; first graders had.

“We’re going to start by playing a game.” A chorus of yay’s broke out before he clapped once more to calm them down. He sat on his desk in the front of the classroom and began tossing a small ball up and down in his right hand. He had spent the night debating if giving a stress ball to a room full of five year olds was a good idea, but then again Dean had never been known for having a plethora of good ideas.

“Mr. Winchester! Why are you sitting on the desk!” one girl, whose name Dean thought to be Jenna, shouted.

“Well, why not?” Dean figured sitting on desks was more comfortable than sitting in those chairs. “So, this game: We’re going to toss this ball around the room, and when you get the ball I want to you tell us your name, favorite color, and…” He thought for a moment before adding, “if you have any brothers or sisters.”

“Can we sit on our tables?” Ian, the boy directly in front of his desk, asked the moment his hand shot into the air.

“Well, I don’t see why not.” The kids smiled as they climbed up and their feet hung above the floor. “But next time any of you want to say something, raise your hand and wait until I call on you, okay?” Sixteen simultaneous head nods was the response he received. A hand attached to a dark skinned boy with a bright white smile flew into the air. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna play too?” The kid asked. Dean smiled; he liked this class a lot already.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll start since I have the ball.” The kids sat eagerly awaiting his answer. “Well, my name is Mr. Winchester,” and before he could say another word a voice from the back of the room asked...

“No! What’s your first name?” And another voice chimed in with…

“You didn’t raise your hand!” Dean clapped once, twice before the room calmed down again.

“Fine, I’ll start over. My name is Dean Winchester, my favorite color is red, and I have one brother.” One of the little voices remembered to raise her hand this time and waited to be called on with two other questions for her teacher.

“Is your brother older or younger? What’s his name?” Well at least this class was eager and enthusiastic enough to keep Dean energetic as well. They were probably better than his morning cup of coffee.

“His name’s Sam, and he’s younger than me.” Dean smiled as he remembered that he was having dinner with Sam and his girlfriend, Jess, tonight. “Okay, enough about me. Who’s next?” At least a dozen hands went up. He tossed the ball to a boy with floppy hair, ripped jeans, and a plaid shirt.

“I’m Jared. My favorite color is green. And I don’t have any brothers or sisters but I have two dogs named Tiger and Moose.” He proudly told the class.

“You can’t name a dog Tiger or Moose. Those aren’t dog names,” a girl in pigtails and a purple dress argued.

“I think Jared can name his dogs whatever he wants to,” Dean told the girl. Jared tossed her the ball, or more so threw it at her face. Which prompted a "Jared! We don't throw things in class, okay? We toss the ball gently.” The boy nodded as the girl began to speak. They learned her name was Alexis and she has an older sister and brother, and that her favorite color is purple. Alexis tossed the ball to the kid sitting in the front row, who promptly told them that he was Ian, his favorite color is red “like Mr. Winchester” and he has two little sisters who are twins. Grace told them that she’s an only child whose favorite color is blue, and Luke stated he liked yellow and he has an older brother.

The ball got passed around to Jenna, then Jack and Cay, Meghan and Kevin who all enthusiastically told the class about their brothers and sisters, sometimes pets, and favorite colors before moving on to the next student. The dark skinned boy who had asked Dean if he was going to play told them that

“My name is Elija, but a lot of people just call me Eli. I have no brothers or sisters but I have a pet fish I named Captain America.” Jack, the boy next to Eli raised his hand to say that Captain America was his favorite.

Dean had to comment telling his class, “I’m more of a Batman kinda guy,” before the ball got tossed to a boy with a Spider-Man t-shirt, Owen, on who announced that he has three sisters and one brother and his favorite color is pink. A hand near the back flew up to tell the class that.

“Boys can’t like pink! That’s for girls!”

“Well, Jack, I think boys can like any color they want, and so can girls. If Owen likes pink, that’s okay. If Regan likes superheroes, that’s cool too,” Dean gestured to a girl sitting at the second table who he noticed had an Iron Man notebook.

“I do like superheroes! Iron Man is my favorite! But I really like Captain America too!” she announced eagerly as the ball came her way. “I’m Regan but people call me Rae, and I have two older brothers and my favorite color is blue,” she told everyone before tossing the ball away. Sammi, Claire and Noah all shared with the class before Noah tossed the ball back to Dean asking, “What are we gonna do next Mr. Winchester?”

Orientation was next. Dean told the class how their days would go from placing their backpacks on the hooks to snack time and lunch time and homework. He told them about the reading logs they would fill out and how they would go about signing out to the bathroom, or nurse. He showed them the birthday chart on the back wall and had them all tell him their birthdays and how old they’d be so the whole class could celebrate. As he was scribbling down Grace’s March birthday, he was interrupted by Kevin asking,

“When’s your birthday? Do we get to celebrate then too?” Dean replied with a “Sure, why not,” and “Kevin, remember to raise your hand next time,” as he wrote down _Mr.Winchester – 24th_ in the January box of his chart.

Shortly before lunch he gathered the class and paraded them down the hall so they could see the computer, art, and music rooms, as well as the library and the gym. He told the class that they have Music on Mondays, Computer time on Tuesdays, Gym every Wednesday, Art on Thursday, and Library time on Fridays. They would have to remember to wear sneakers, or bring a pair on Wednesdays and that girls should avoid wearing dresses or skirts when they have gym. As he guided them to the cafeteria,, Noah raised his hand, and when Dean nodded at him he asked, “How are we gonna remember all this?” Dean told them that they wouldn’t have to and he would be sending a paper with all the information home with them.

When the class was at lunch, Dean was in the teacher’s lounge down the hall sipping coffee and checking messages. Texts from his brother asking how his day was going, spam emails, and a missed call from his dad that he wasn’t going to bother returning. He talked to Charlie, one of the first grade teachers who he had befriended over the past few years. She told him that they missed him in the first grade wing, but she knew he’d do great with the kindergarteners. He replied to his brothers texts inviting himself over for dinner, and told Charlie that she had to introduce him to her new girlfriend. He finished up his ramen, _really Dean, step it up this isn’t college, it’s kindergarten_ , waved goodbye to Charlie and walked down the hall to pick up his class.

After lunch they were more energetic than this morning, Dean had to clap his hands five times to get them to calm down enough to watch the short movie he had brought. About half way through the movie, Dean felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked up from his desk to see Noah.

“Noah? Everything all right?”

“Mr. Winchester. I think I.....” the boy looked down as if in shame, as Dean noticed the wet spot on his pants.

“Noah, it’s okay. Can you walk with a buddy to the nurse’s office? Or do you want me to call her down here and she can walk you back and you can get cleaned up?”

“Can you call her?” The boy looked on the verge of tears. Dean reached over and grabbed the phone and the tissues. As he dialed the nurses extension he wiped the kids tears away. She came to the room a few moments later, and within ten minutes Noah was back in class. Dean sighed. He had been crossing his fingers that nothing would go wrong, but this is kindergarten- it can’t run smooth all the time.

After the movie he gathered them again to bring them to gym where Ash Murray took over. Dean figured Ash was stuck in the 80’s, he certainly had the hair for it. All the kids loved him though, he told them to call him “Ash,” and everyone did. People tended to forget his last name.

When gym class was over Dean had enough time to explain that after their activity period, they would come back and handouts would be sitting in the bins on the back shelf. Every student had their own bin. Next to the bins was a box for “returning papers,” such as signed forms by parents, or homework that was to be turned in. He told them that he assigned homework on Mondays and it was due on Fridays, usually it will only be a page or two in a workbook. Reading Logs were to be filled out every day and shown to him on Fridays. Today’s handouts included Lawrence Elementary’s Code of Conduct to be signed by a parent or guardian, his supply list, their weekly schedule and reading log, as well as a letter from Dean to the parents.

It was 2:25 when the first parent showed up for pick up, 2:45 when the busses left, and 3:00 when Sammi’s mom came to pick her up. It was 3:30 when Dean pulled out of the parking lot in his 1967 Chevy Impala blasting Led Zeppelin heading for home. It was 4:08 when he knocked on his brother’s apartment door to be greeted by a smiling blonde woman.

“Dean!” She pulled him into an embrace as he returned the favor.

“Good to see you too, Jess,” he told her as they broke apart and a tall man with long hair walked into the hall asking if Dean was “flirting with my girlfriend?” to which Dean replied “Not today” as he patted his brother on the back and the trio made their way to the kitchen.

The three of them spent the evening eating baked ziti and nursing beers as they talked about Dean’s class, football, and how their half-brother Adam was graduating high school this year. Dean told Jess some stories of young Sam, most of which she had heard some version of before. Sam asked if Dean was seeing anyone, or interested in anyone, and Dean gave the honest answer of “No, unless you count Chris Pine and Emmy Rossum,” to which Sam and Jess laughed and Dean smiled.

Sam worried about him sometimes, actually a lot of the time. He worried that his brother was lonely, he worried that Dean had spent most of his life protecting him from their alcoholic father, he worried that Dean thought he was incapable of stable relationships. He worried what Dean would say when Jess opened her mouth and said the words...

“Dean there’s something Sam and I need to tell you,” Jess announced, causing Dean to look up. Sam finished what she had started,

“Jess and I are engaged. As of last night.” He smiled that goofy smile, as Jess held up a hand to reveal a ring that she must’ve slipped on when Dean wasn’t looking.

“Man, that’s great!” He pulled his brother and future sister-in-law in for a hug, with a smile on his face that Sam thought was broken.

“We both wanted to tell you first. We’re hoping for a late spring wedding,” Sam told his brother before brushing his hair back with his hand and looking Dean in the eyes to ask, “Dean, I want you to be my best man,” Sam knew there was no way Dean could say no.

“Of course, Sammy, what kind of dumb question is that?” He nudged his brother’s head. Dean finished his beer in-between congratulations and more hugs, and goodbyes as he kissed Jess on the cheek and elbowed his brother in the gut.

“Bitch,” he told him.

“Jerk,” Sam called out as he closed the door behind him. Dean drove home in the dark, with nothing but the hum of the Impala’s engine and AC/DC on the radio to keep him company. Sam being engaged meant he did something right. Ever since their mom died when Sam was just a baby, and their dad drank his way to oblivion, Dean had made it his one goal in life to make Sam happy. Dean wanted nothing more than for Sam to be a better person than John Winchester ever was, and that Dean would ever be. He wanted Sam to have success and love and a family, and he got it. He had his job as Assistant District Attorney, he had Jess, they had their dumbass dog. Sam being happy meant that Dean couldn’t care less about being happy himself. He had his car, his music, and his class, but the truth of the matter was he was alone.

Dean had tried before to make something work, he tried with Lisa but that went to hell. Dean figured he was incapable of stability and normalcy. He was broken and scarred and he had his father to blame. Sam figured he just needed someone to fix him, someone with a tool kit and some duct tape to make his brother realize that he isn’t as fucked as he thinks he is.

Dean pulled into the driveway of his building just as Lenny Kravitz began to sing on the radio. He cut the engine and wandered upstairs to his empty apartment. He took a shower before throwing on an old t-shirt and falling into bed. He checked his phone to make sure his alarm was on and noticed there was another missed call from his dad that he still had no intention of returning, and a text from Jess telling him that she’s going to force him to come dress shopping with her, as well as saying goodnight. He would’ve texted her back, but he fell asleep before he could hit respond.

\--------------------------------------

The third Wednesday of the school year was Meet the Teacher night. Teachers, students and staff alike had spent the beginning of the week preparing. Dr. Chuck Shurley, the principal, worked to make sure everything was all set. Pamela, the art teacher, hung students’ work on the walls. Dean had his students decorate name plates for their desks and they all worked together to create a “Welcome Parents” banner. The text was surrounded by sixteen pairs of handprints all labeled. There was glitter scattered over the whole thing, as well as the floor, the students, and everything else in the room.

The last student left his classroom at 3:01 when her older brother came to pick her up. “Sorry for being late, Mr. Winchester, I had to talk to my teacher about this essay and I lost track of time,” the high schooler explained as he picked up Rae’s backpack and guided her out the door. The first parent walked in at 5:47. Dean knew who she was before she introduced herself as Linda Tran, Kevin’s mom, and Dean gestured her to her son’s seat in the second row. She asked how Kevin was doing and he told her the truth, that being that her son was very smart. He passed out papers to all the desks as more parents began filling seats.

\-----------------------------------------

Castiel Novak walked into the classroom and took a look. Sure, he had seen it before when he dropped Grace of on that first day, but he hadn’t actually look. This time he did, and he liked what he saw. There were four circular tables with students’ names on them and storage bins of paper, markers, and pencils in the center of each. Those were some of the supplies that had been on the list he had received three weeks ago. The back wall of the classroom was home to a couple dozen coat hooks with shelves overhead where backpacks and lunches sat every day. On those shelves each student had a compartment with their name on it. Castiel assumed that was where handouts went.

In the corner of the room across from the door was a rug with letters, numbers and shapes scattered around in its pattern. A bookshelf scanned the back wall until it came to a halt at what he assumed was Mr. Winchester’s desk. Behind his desk were shelves of papers and binders, and his on his desk was an organized mess. There was a white board on the front wall, and above that was a number line. The next wall over was home to a handful of computers, a counter, more storage shelves and a sink. The walls were scattered with posters such as “classroom rules,” a calendar and a birthday chart. There was a banner hanging over the front of the room that read “Welcome Parents” with pairs of small handprints surrounding it.

Castiel liked what he saw; he liked the openness, the colors, the organization, and the environment as a whole. He found his way to the chair his daughter sat in five days a week and began looking over the papers in front of him.

Dean clapped his hands twice before the parents caught on; he went to explain that that was how he got students to calm down and pay attention. He told the parents a bit about himself, like how he had realized he wanted to be a teacher through teaching his little brother, and how he earned a degree in early childhood education from South Dakota State . He told them he had taught first grade a handful of schools in the area before coming to Lawrence, and that this was his first year teaching kindergarten. He explained reading logs, and rules for birthday celebrations, and how classroom volunteers worked. He told them that all the supplies in the classroom are shared, with the exclusion of notebooks and workbooks. Castiel noted that his daughter’s composition notebook was stashed away in the storage bin on the table along with three others. Dean went through the tentative schedule for the school year, including possible field trips, and he talked about what he would be teaching their kids.

“That’s about all I have to say, you’re all invited to head down to the cafeteria for coffee and refreshments, or to the art room, music room, library, or gym to meet those teachers. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to stay. I’ll also be down in the cafeteria later tonight.” Dean stated as the mothers, fathers, and a grandmother pushed in their chairs and filled out of the room leaving only a few behind.

Luke’s dad, James, wanted Dean to know that his son had the occasional behavioral problem. He asked Dean to let him or his wife know if there was ever any issues so they could inform and discuss it with his child psychologist. Jack’s grandmother, Diane, informed Dean that “I don’t know if you have been told already but Jackson does have ADHD, and he may need a little help focusing. I found this on the internet and thought it might be helpful,” as she handed him a print out, and asked him to “tell me about any issues.”

\----------------------------------------------

The same man Dean had met on the first day was the last one standing in the classroom.

“Mr. Winchester,” the man approached Dean and reached out a hand that he met with a firm shake and

“You’re Grace’s dad, right?” he nodded. “Castiel Novak.” He said as their hands fell apart.

“I don’t think it’s a huge deal, but I wanted to let you know I have some concerns about Grace. I know that kids all learn at different rates, and it took her a while to have the alphabet down and to get her numbers right. It’s probably no big deal, I just worry about her falling behind.” Dean nodded from where he straddled, the corner of his desk. He understood. He knew that sometimes it was parents’ overreacting, but many times there was actual something too look out for.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her, and if she struggles more, we can discuss what the next step will be. I never want to see a student fall behind, so I can assure you that won’t happen. If you have any other concerns, Mr. Novak, don’t hesitate to contact me.” There was a definite undercurrent of sincerity in Dean’s voice. Castiel smiled as he walked out the door.

Dean grabbed his sweatshirt and car keys out of the closet in the back of the room, stopped in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee and a quick “hello” to Charlie before heading out the door, and headed home with nothing but that day’s episode of _Dr. Sexy_ to keep him company.


	2. Lions, Dragons and Elvis Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A field trip to the zoo, a lesson about stereotypes, music, and old memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever multi-chapter fic so I hope it doesn't suck. New chapters will be up on ~~Wednesdays (not necessarily consecutive Wednesdays)~~ oops it's not Wednesday I suck 
> 
> Updates on the progress will be on my [Tumblr](http://angelradios.tumblr.com/)

On weekday mornings the Novak household became the stage for a symphony. The first note was always Castiel’s alarm buzzing, followed by the shower water. Small footsteps join the music as Grace clambered out of bed and down the hall. The music came to an allegro as the notes of cereal hitting the bottom of a bowl and the coffee pot doing it’s job made their way into the song. There’s a crescendo when Castiel turns on the kitchen radio, and a decrescendo as he and Grace make their way out of the house and close the door.

Somedays, the symphony is different; the musicians vary the pace and the tone. Some mornings, that first note repeats itself again and again as Castiel hits snooze, or the ding of a toaster replaces the sound of cereal.

That October day when Castiel was chaperoning Grace’s class fieldtrip to the zoo was the day the symphony went haywire. The first note was the same, the buzzing of the alarm clock, but after that it was a mess. The hot water wasn’t working so Castiel’s shower didn’t happen. They had forgotten to pick up milk yesterday so Grace couldn’t possibly eat any cereal, and the toaster almost burnt her waffles. Castiel managed to spill his coffee, meaning he had to change his shirt. Grace spent fifteen minutes looking for her favorite sweatshirt, only to find it had fallen behind the coach. The car refused to start until the third try. They pulled into the school parking lot at exactly 7:58, right on time.

 

\-------------------------------------

Dean counted again, the sixteen kids all bundled up in sweatshirts with tight grips on their lunch bags. He double and triple checked for lunch boxes and permission slips. For the third time that morning, he went off the schedule in his head before going over it with his three parent chaperones. For the third time that morning, he went over the rules, the emergency protocol, and the contact information with Mr. Clyde, Mr. Novak, and Mrs. Speight. He handed them folders, different colors for each group, that had a schedule, the contact information for the other chaperones as well as the parents, and five name tags (one for them, four for the kids in their group).

“Mr. Winchester, we know. You’ve been over this twice already,” Alexis’ mom, Jen, told him. He knew she had chaperoned school trips before; she did have two older children. Dean had been on school trips before. He just hadn’t been on school trips to the zoo, and Dean Winchester doesn’t like the zoo.

“Mr. Winchester,” Brett Clyde, a man on the heavier side, began to speak.

“Please, call me Dean. Mr. Winchester is my father. Even your children call me Dean,” He told the three parents. Most of his class had stopped calling him “Mr. Winchester” by the third week of school.

“Dean, how much coffee have you had this morning? You seem hyper…” Castiel commented.

“Just one. But I’m going to need more.” The two other chaperones went to gather their groups and hand out name tags as Dean muttered, “I just don’t like zoos.”

“If you don’t like zoos, then why are you taking your students to one?” the man asked.

“Grade wide trip, I had no say in the matter,” Dean told him as they parted ways to gather their own groups. Dean looked down at the four familiar faces as he handed them their name tags, which they proceeded to stick on their sweatshirts. In Dean’s class, groups were the same as the tables the students sat at every day. Today, Dean was with group one, which was comprised of Ian, Jack, Claire and Jenna. He checked their names off of his attendance sheet.

Castiel pulled a chair up to table number two where his group was seated. There was his daughter, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. In the years since her mother left, Castiel had become a hair tying expert. There were two boys who seemed to have an intense interest in their game of rock-paper-scissors, Owen and Elijah. “You can say Eli,” he told Castiel when he put on his nametag. Then there was Reagan, a girl with long blonde hair and Captain America shirt that was three sizes too big. Castiel figured it probably came out of an older brother’s closet. He checked the four names off his sheet and double checked to make sure he had their contact forms in his folder. Today was going to be a good day.

Sixteen children and four adults made their way out of the school to be met in the parking lot with two other kindergarten classes, and two busses. Dean’s class had a bus all to themselves. As Castiel remembered it, bus rides were always at least half the fun of field trips. This trip was no exception. There were shouts of “Mr. Clyde, we can go see the penguins, right?!” and “Lions are the best! RAWR!” before everyone even sat down. Dean clapped his hands once and the chatter stopped.

“Okay everyone, you can’t be that loud on the bus. It’ll distract the driver.” The children nodded. “I’m going to review the schedule one more time with all of you,” he stated as the bus doors closed and it began to pull away. Dean stood upfront, right hand on the top of the front seat, left hand holding his folder. “We should be at the Zoo by 9:45. At 10:00 we’ll all be together for a special presentation at their Learning Center. When that’s over, around 11:00, we’ll break off into our groups and you’ll be able to see whatever animals or exhibits your group can agree on.” He emphasized that last part. “You should stop somewhere along the way and eat your lunches. We’ll meet back at the Learning Center by 1:30 and leave the zoo by 2:00. We’ll be back here at 2:45. Does anyone have any questions?” No hands went up, and all heads nodded. Good, Dean thought as he sat down right next to Castiel Novak.

“Why don’t you like zoos? Childhood incident? Zoophobia?” the man asked out of pure curiosity.

“Not a phobia, and considering the fact that the first time I remember being at zoo I was like 16, it’s not a childhood incident. They’re just smelly and dirty and kinda nasty. I like the reptile and aquarium exhibits though,” Dean told him before adding, “lizards and fish are cool. Everything else, not so much.”

“Makes sense,” Castiel deadpanned.

“That’s all? Usually I get something along the lines of being a neat freak,” Dean huffed. Usually, those comments came from Sam, and usually they didn’t involve zoos. They involved the sauce that had splattered on the stove because Sam had forgotten to put a cover on, or the grimy dirt that coated the stair rail in their dad’s building. Some things Dean didn’t mind, like the grease he got on his shirt when he helped their Uncle Bobby out in the auto shop.

By the time the busses pulled up to the Learning Center, the sun had fully risen and the air had warmed up. Dean was the first one to step off the bus, double checking that he had food, folder, phone and a pen all scattered throughout his coat pockets. He pulled his aviators down off his forehead over his eyes as he waited for his group to pile off the bus.

The presentation was actually interesting, and Dean doesn't even like zoos. The zookeeper, Marty, told the class about the animals at the zoo, from the lions to the turtles. He talked about how many of the animals are rescues. He kept the kids interest, and Dean’s too. He answered questions from Noah asking what his favorite animal is, to a boy from the other kindergarten class asking why the animals don’t attack each other. Marty told them it was because they keep animals who would possibly hurt each other in different parts of the zoo, and any animals that seem dangerous to others are put in “time out” for a while. He was done talking by 10:50 and headed off to “feed the lions.” Dean’s class gathered outside before splitting off into their groups for roaming the zoo, and having a guided tour if they so choose.

The October sun was warm against the cool autumn breeze, and Dean couldn’t decide if he should unzip his jacket or pull it closer. He went with unzipping; he could deal with a little chill. He let go of Jenna’s hand to pull down the zipper and pull his sunglasses back over his eyes.

“Dean! You said we can’t let go!” the girl cried out when Dean’s hand slipped away.

“Jenna, it’s okay to let go for a moment. I just don’t want any of you running off,” he explained. He had told his group earlier to walk in a line, hand in hand. It made it easier for him. He had Jenna on his right and Ian on his left. Jack and Claire were on the ends.

"Dean, what's your favorite animal?" Ian looked up at Dean as the group worked their way to the reptile exhibit.

"Dragons," Dean deadpanned. He didn’t really have a favorite, but you have to admit - dragons are pretty damn cool. It’s not just that they’re cool, though. Dean had another reason; a reason he didn’t like to talk about.

"But dragons aren't real," Jack informed his teacher from the other side of Ian.

"Now, who told you that?" Dean knew exactly where he was going with this. In his years of practically raising his brother, and his years of teaching, the number one thing he learned was to let a child have their imagination, their creativity, and their dreams. Whether it’s believing in dragons, or if they want to go to the moon; no matter what, tell them that that stick figure looks just like their mom.

"Grandpa! He's super smart! Plus I've never seen a dragon!"

"Have you ever seen a dolphin?"

"No," Jack hesitated before he answered, looking up at Dean with a sense of wonder in his eyes.

"Are dolphins real?"

"Yes." Jack forcefully stated.

"So is there a chance that dragons could be real?" This was it, one of the moments Dean lived for.

"YES RAWRR!" Ian laughed, Jack laughed. Jenna, Claire and Dean all laughed as the group reassembled and continued their journey to the meet up with the snakes, lizards, and other cold-blooded creatures.

“Dean! I’m hungry!” Claire whined as they were finishing up in the aqua life exhibit.

“Me too! Can we stop?” Jenna added.

“I guess. How about we finish up here then find a place to stop?”

The girls nodded; the boys nodded.

“DEAN!” Claire screamed.

“What?” Dean knew that screaming children was never a good sign.

“My lunch is ruined! Look!” Dean looked. He saw that a yogurt cup had practically exploded over an apple, a bag of pretzels, and a cookie. Tears began to fall from the girl’s eyes.

“Hey, hey, Listen. How about we forget about our packed lunches? What do you guys think about pizza?” He nodded in the direction of a food stand.

“I like pizza,” Ian smiled.

The five of them sat down at a table right outside the pizza stand and Dean proceeded to slice the two pizzas into little pieces. He handed all the children slices and cups of water, as well as napkins because everyone knows kindergarteners can be messy.

“Dean, why do you like dragons? Aren’t they evil?” Jenna asked.

“Not all dragons.” Dean took opportunities when he saw them. Right then he saw the opportunity for a lesson on stereotypes. “Have you ever heard the word ‘stereotype’ before?” he asked. He got four head shakes in return. “Okay,” he began, trying to think of a kindergarten level definition of the word. “Do you remember on the first day of school when Jack told Owen that he couldn’t like pink?” They nodded. “Well, the idea that girls have to like pink and boys like blue are stereotypes.” Dean hoped they were following along. “Stereotypes are ideas that one group of people are something or like something, such as all girls like pink. Or have you ever heard someone say that all Asians are smart?”

“But Kevin is smart and he’s Asian, right?” one of the boys argued.

“Yes. That’s because all stereotypes are based in truth. Girls usually like pink more than boys do. But when you add that all girls like pink, that makes it a stereotype. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” said Jenna

“Yeah, is it like when you say everyone does something but not everyone does?” Claire asked.

“Exactly,” Dean affirmed.

“So a lot of dragons are evil, but not all of them?” Ian asked.

“Exactly,” Dean smiled as he took a sip of his Coke.

“And how Rae likes superheros, but usually boys do?” Jack added. Dean nodded once more, and he smiled. He was proud of his kids for understanding something many adult don’t. He looked down at his watch, noticing it was 12:43 he suggested they end lunch and go see a few more animals before they had to go back.

\---------------------------

Castiel’s group was more interested in the tigers and cheetahs than much of anything else.

“Daddy! Look how fast they are!” Grace pointed to the cheetahs who seemed to be racing each other.

“Hey Owen, do you think you could have a cheetah as a pet?” Eli turned to his friend.

“That would be AWESOME!” was his reply.

“Right?! My pet fish would be super lame compared to a cheetah!” Eli explained.

“Eli, you can’t have a cheetah as a pet!” Rae gave her input to the boys’ conversation.

“Why not, Regan?” Eli put an emphasis on the girl’s name, purposely not using her nickname to annoy her.

“Mr. Novak! Tell them you can’t have a cheetah as a pet!” She demanded of her chaperone.

“Boys,” Castiel kneeled down on the concrete, “having a cheetah as a pet is not a very good idea. First off all, they’re big. Where would you put one? They can be dangerous, plus, they are very hard to take care off.” Castiel Novak never once thought that he would be explaining to two five-year old boys why cheetahs are not good pets, yet there he was.

Castiel never once thought he’d fall in love, or have a child, then lose his love, yet there he was. He might say that he couldn’t be happier, but he was wrong. He knew something was missing, and Grace knew it too. Castiel smiled down at his daughter as the group sat down to eat their sandwiches and drink their juice boxes and whatever else they had packed.

\-------------------------------------------

The bus ride back to the school was quieter than the way there. The children, as well as the adults, were tired. There was less chatter as some kids even closed their eyes.

“Why don’t we have any animals at school?” Alexis asked of her teacher.

“Yeah! My brother’s class has a hamster!” Luke yelled from the back of the bus.

There was no way Dean would ever have a hamster, or gerbil, or anything furry in his classroom. Something that swims, that was a possibility. Fourteen other kids agreed with Alexis and Luke, and Dean found himself walking into a pet store that weekend looking for a fish to buy. After all, who can say no to sixteen kids with puppy dog eyes that were _almost_ as good as Sammy’s?

\----------------------------------

When Castiel Novak walked into Mr. Winchester’s classroom Monday morning, the first thing he noticed was the swarm of kids gathered around their teacher’s desk.

“Morning, Grace! Morning, Mr. Novak!” Dean practically skipped over to where they were standing.

“What’s everyone looking at?” Grace asked excitedly

“Why don’t you go look?” Dean suggested as she placed her bag on her hook. She smiled at her dad and ran off.

“What is it?” Mr. Novak wanted to know.

“A fish,” Dean revealed.

“You got them a fish?”

“Yeah,” Dean clarified.

“Why?” Castiel questioned.

“Why not?” Dean replied.

“Is that your motto?” Castiel wondered.

“It was my yearbook quote. I have it tattooed on my ass,” Dean smirked.

“Really?” Castiel didn’t doubt that Dean had a tattoo somewhere; he just doubted that he had “why not” permanently on his ass.

“Really,” Dean smiled as he turned away.

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Okay everyone, we have a very important job to do today. We have to agree on a name for our new class fish.” Dean twirled an Expo marker between his fingers as he looked down on fifteen? Wait? Luke wasn’t there. He made sure to mark that on his attendance sheet. Dean looked down on fifteen excited faces. “It’s a boy fish, and we’re going to vote on the name? Raise your hand if you have a suggestion, and I’ll write it on the board, and then we’ll vote, okay?”

“Okay!” Hands flew into the air. Dean scribbled on the board: _Bubbles, Nemo, Han Solo, Tony, Mike,_ and finally he called on Jack and then added _Elvis_ to the list.

“What’s an Elvis?”

“He's a singer guy! My grandpa listens to him a lot!”

“What does he sing?”

“Old stuff I bet.”

“Can we listen?”

Dean thought for a moment, trying to figure out what Elvis Presley could teach kindergarteners. The history of Rock n’ Roll? That’s part of kindergarten curriculum, right? “Sure, but only if I can play something else first,” Dean told the class as he pulled up YouTube onto the SmartBoard and typed in his search.

“Elvis became world famous in the 1950’s, he is credited with being the father of Rock n’ Roll. Now, before Elvis was around, music was a lot different. There was swing, and jazz, and big bang, but not rock. This is a song from the 1940’s by a man named Jimmy Durante,” Dean clicked the second video on the screen and speakers began to sing:

_You must remember this,_   
_a kiss is still a kiss,_   
_A sigh is just a sigh,_   
_The fundamental things apply,_   
_as time goes by._

“I don’t like it!” Meghan snapped.

“Elvis is better!” Jack hollered through other cries of disapproval and, “Play the Elvis!”

“Okay, okay. This is one of Elvis’ biggest hits.” Dean pulled up the video and a smile broke out on Jack’s face at the first words.

_Lord Almighty,_   
_I feel my temperature rising_   
_Higher higher_   
_It's burning through to my soul_

“I like it!” Owen jumped out of his seat and began to sway his hips as he danced. Within a minute or two, the rest of the class had joined in, even Cay got up to dance along.

_Ooh, ooh, ooh,_   
_I feel my temperature rising_   
_Help me, I'm flaming_   
_I must be a hundred and nine_   
_Burning, burning, burning_   
_And nothing can cool me_   
_I just might turn into smoke_   
_But I feel fine_

When Dean became an elementary school teacher, he never once thought he’d be dancing along to Elvis Presley’s _Burning Love_ with a room full of five and six year olds, all because he bought them a fish. Yet here he was, with Cay gripping tight to one hand and Grace to the other as they twirled under his arms. Owen and Jared were doing something that resembled the disco, and what Alexis and Claire were doing resembled the twist. That’s when Dr. Chuck Shurley, also known as Dean’s boss, walked passed the door. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled and shook his head. He’d known Dean for long enough to know better than to ask for an explanation.

\-----------------------------------

When Dean got home that night the first thing he did was start digging through drawers and boxes and closets until he finally found what he had been looking for. It left the box it was in and it found a new home on his nightstand. Now, sitting next to the picture of him and Mary was the plush dragon he had as a kid. It was old and frayed, and there was a scorch mark on the side. Herbert, as he called it, was one of the few things that survived the fire that killed his mom. They lost the house, photo albums and home videos. A few pictures were saved, as was Herbert, mainly because Dean wouldn’t leave him behind.

 _Take your brother outside as fast as you can, now, Dean! Go!_ Dean took Sammy from his dad’s arms and gripped Herbert tight in his hand as he ran out the front door to watch the first four years of his life burn down in front of him.

\-------------------------------------------------

The orchestra took over the stage once more in the evenings at the Novak household. The oven and stove beeped when Dinner was done cooking. The cabinets opened and the table was set. Forks scratched up against plates in the background as Grace rambled on about her day. Some days the phone would ring, or the TV would be on in place of the radio. The doorbell might sound when the pizza boy got there on days when Castiel didn’t feel like cooking.

Then there was the scratch of pencil on paper when Grace did her homework, or Castiel’s deep voice reading one of her books. Some nights there were board games or movies, other nights there were cookies to bake. The music altered and the timing changed, but the ending was always the same.

Grace would argue that it wasn’t time for bed yet, and Castiel would tell her that she needed sleep. She’d give in and put on her pajamas and brush her teeth, then wait for her dad to carry her upstairs and tuck her in.

“Goodnight Daddy,” she would say as he kissed her forehead, “Goodnight George,” she would tell her teddy bear. “Goodnight Mommy,” Grace would say as she looked up to the sky. She’d pull the covers up to her head and have Castiel tuck them in around her. He’d think about how calm she looked, like an angel as he softly sang to her.

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey_ , you’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away. By the time he was finished her eyes had fallen shut. He kissed her once more before turning out the light on his way out the door. “Goodnight angel,” he would say.


	3. When Life Gives You Melons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has some news, Cas is worried, Gabe shows up, Dean has a secret.

Sam knew Dean had always struggled with school work, he just never knew how much. He knew that Dean tried to help him the best he could, as older brothers tend to do, but somewhere along the way the roles reversed and Sam was helping Dean. Dean tried, he really did; he just couldn’t quite get there. Sam figured moving around a lot made it worse. Dean never had the same teacher long enough to actually get some help. Sammy knew how much Dean despised going to school, so when Dean told him he wanted to be a teacher, Sam was shocked. When Dean said he wanted to teach early elementary school that made a little more sense. Either way, Sam supported his brother, and is proud of how great of a teacher Dean turned out to be. However, there’s one thing Sammy never knew. Sam knew that when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. What he didn’t know that life has never handed Dean Winchester lemons, he just got stuck with melons. From what Castiel could tell, his daughter might be getting her share of lemons as well.

Castiel noticed the procrastination first. Grace putting off her homework, saying she’ll finish it later, saying he can read to her later, saying “No, Daddy, I don’t wanna read along. You can just do it.” The frustration and anger came second. Grace would slam her homework folder on the table. Her eyebrows would furrow and her lips would pout. She’d close her book with a louder-than-it-should-be thud.

“Gracie, everything okay?” he asked her once.

“I’m mad daddy. Mad. mad. mad.” She stomped her feet with each word.

“Why’s that, honey?”

“School is making me mad!” she stomped again. Castiel leaned down and picked her up and sat her on his knee as he pulled a chair up to the table.

“Why does school make you mad? I thought you loved class and Mr. Winchester?”

“I do, daddy, I do! Dean is the bestest!”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“I can’t do it! The words and numbers are all scrambled and mixed up and nothing makes sense and it just makes me mad!” She looked up at her father, her deep blue eyes matching his own. In hers he saw anger and frustration, and he knew something was definitely not right.

Castiel went to Google. He typed _mixed up letters_ in the search box. of course the first five results were word scramble games, but number six read “ _How to Recognize Signs of Dyslexia_ ” and that seemed like a good place to start. Of  course he knew of dyslexia, he just didn’t know about it. He knew it had to do with letters and number and learning, but he didn’t know why or how. Not yet at least. His search escalated to “ _Dyslexia in kindergarten_ ” then to “ _how to deal with dyslexia_ ”  and “ _how to diagnose dyslexia_.” By the time he had skimmed over ten different articles and browse three different sites, he had a feeling that dyslexia just might be what was going on with Grace. He figured the best thing to do would be talk to Mr. Winchester about it, after all a teacher probably knew more about learning difficulties than an accountant. He looked at the time and realized he should probably get some sleep.  Except there was one problem, he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep.

\-----------------------------

 Castiel wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep that night. Dean Winchester was laying on Bobby Singer’s couch watching reruns of _Friends_ when his insomnia came back. Dean hadn’t been home since that morning. He left the school and went right to Bobby’s. Jo came homeDean worked on teaching her guitar. He swung over to the high school to pick Adam up from soccer practice. When Sammy and Jess showed up, Dean was in the kitchen helping Bobby’s wife, Ellen cook dinner.

Dean loved spending time at the Singer-Harvelle house, he always had. When he was a kid, going over to “Uncle” Bobby’s was a way to escape John Winchester’s less-than-expert parenting. When he got older it was a place to feel needed, loved, and respected. Bobby would ask for Dean’s help in the auto yard. Hell, Bobby taught Dean everything he knows about cars, including how to drive them. Working for Bobby had paid Dean’s way through college. Dean was right there when Bobby married Ellen Harvelle, and Joanna Harvelle become the little sister Dean never wanted.

Adam Milligan, Dean and Sam’s half brother, spent almost as much time at the Singer-Harvelle house as Dean did, not only because he was one of Jo’s best friends, but because Bobby and Ellen loved him like they loved Dean and Sam. To the three boys, Ellen, Bobby and Jo were the best family they had ever been a part of.

By the time Dean had cleaned up from dinner and helped Bobby finish working on that ’76 Chevy, it was getting late. He made some BS excuse about being too tired to drive home, saying he’d crash on the couch. But Dean wasn’t too tired to drive; he just didn’t want to go back to his apartment, to nothing. So he lay awake, watching _Friends_ , and wondering if this is it. This can’t be it, there has to be more to life than this.

\----------------------------

 Castiel lay awake, trying to keep his head above the flood of worry that had come over him since tucking Grace into bed. He knew he’d talk to Mr. Winchester.... to Dean, when he got the chance, but before then? What could he do? He looked over at the clock on his nightstand. 12:13 and sleep was nowhere in sight. Then it hit him, the only thing he could do. Talk to the one person who knew him better than anyone else.  He dialed the number from memory and listened to the phone ring, and ring and….

“Cassie, it’s midnight. why are you calling me??” His brother sounded less annoyed than he expected, meaning that Gabriel probably wasn’t asleep.

“Can’t sleep,” Castiel explained. Gabe sighed.

“Can’t sleep so you call your brother? Don’t you have a boyfriend or something?”

“Gabriel, if I had a boyfriend I’m pretty sure you would know about it.”

“Well would I know if you liked somebody?”

“Not necessarily” Castiel more questioned rather than stated, because as far as he knew Gabe could have some way of knowing.

“So do you, Cassie?” Castiel could hear his brother’s smirk through the phone. “Answer me.”

“Well, Grace’s teacher is really nice.” Wait. Did Castiel just seriously tell his brother he might like his daughter’s teacher? He did.

“Oh, really?” The smirk hadn’t come close to fading off Gabriel’s face.

“That’s not what I called to talk about, Gabriel.” Castiel had more important things to discuss than his possible liking of Dean Winchester.

“Okay, fine. What’s up little bro? You sound... stressed?” Gabriel knew Castiel better than any of their other siblings. He could tell when something was off, and something was definitely off.

“Worried, I guess.” Castiel didn’t quite know how to put “I think my Grace is dyslexic, but I may just be overthinking it and I don’t know what to do.” into fewer words.

“About what? Need to vent? Want me to come over? I got nothing better to do.” Gabe had shown up at the Novak house worried about his brother plenty of times before. When Cas had that whole “sexuality crisis” as Gabe called it, when the divorce happened, when Cas needed a hand with Grace, he was always there. To this day Gabriel is the only Novak who knows the truth behind Castiel and Hannah’s split, or at least the full truth. Everyone knew the “Hannah ignored Grace and treated her like crap and was actually a bitch and then cheated on Cas” part, but Gabe also knew the “Cas likes dick and not vagina so I dunno why he married the bitch in the first place” part. And everyone knew the “holy shit Hannah killed herself part” and no one ever really knew why, not even Castiel.  Everyone had theories, everyone had ideas, but no one really knew.

“About Grace. Come over if you want to, but I’m not going to ask you to drive across town at midnight on a weekday.”

 

“Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be right there.” Part of Castiel wanted to tell Gabriel, “No, it’s fine, don’t come over,” but another part of him thought that venting over the phone wouldn’t quite do, and that part was stronger, so he replied with a “See you then,” and hung up.

Gabriel didn’t bother to knock; he let himself in with the key he had copied for himself.

_“Since when do you have a key? I never gave you a key, Gabriel” Castiel had asked him once._

_“I got it myself Cassie”_

_“When?”_

_“When you left me to watch Grace while you had that convention thing.” Castiel had trusted his brother to watch her the first time Castiel had been out of town over-night since Hannah had left. Castiel spent the full six day marketing convention worrying about Grace, and of course she was fine._

_“You copied the house key I gave you?”_

_“Yep. Never know when it might come in handy,” and he was right. It had come in handy._

He found Castiel in the kitchen, fiddling with a coffee maker. Gabriel hopped up and slid down the counter, coming to a stop right in front of his brother. Castiel didn’t even look up.

“Gabriel. Are you aware that sliding across counters is something people over the age of ten don’t usually do?”  he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Key word usually,” Gabriel smiled as he took the cup of coffee Castiel handed him. “But hey, it’s your house, so if you’d rather sit at the table, or on the couch, that’s fine by me.”

Castiel simply shook his head in response as he poured himself a cup of coffee and led the way to the living room. Gabriel spread his feet out over the couch, as he usually did and Castiel took up what room was left.

“Okay Cassie, c’mon, tell me what’s eating at you.” Gabriel put his coffee cup on the table and gave Castiel a look that said “spill your guts or I’ll tell mom about that one time when you were four and decided to take a piss in the garden and I was a good brother and took the blame.” Castiel sighed and began to tell Gabriel what was really going on. He told him how Grace had been behaving when it came to school, and what he read up on. Gabe listened, and that was all Castiel really needed him to do. Gabriel couldn’t tell him how to fix it,or if his dyslexia theory was right, but he could listen, offer a pat on the shoulder, and smile encouragingly. That’s what Gabriel was good at, not necessarily giving advice, but listening. Well, listening and pranking everyone in the family.

It was close to 2:30am by the time Castiel carried the coffee cups back to the kitchen and went to grab a blanket and pillow for Gabe, who was already half asleep on the couch. Castiel still didn’t sleep very well that night, but at least he got a few hours.

 -------------------------------

 Castiel stepped into the classroom just as Dean was saying goodbye to Luke’s father, telling him that “As always, I’ll call you if there are any problems.” The taller man nodded with a “thank you” as he walked passed Castiel and out the door.  Dean turned to Castiel with a sigh.

“Well, glad that one’s over, come have a seat.” He led the way to his desk in the corner of the classroom. “Castiel, or do you prefer Mr. Novak?” Dean asked him as he sat down across the desk.

“Castiel is fine.” Mr. Novak is his father, and his oldest brother, not him.

“It’s an interesting name,” Dean commented as he headed over to feed Elvis the fish before sitting down.

“My mother named all of us after angels,” Castiel told him.

“Really? How many of you are there?”

“Myself included, there’s six. Michael, Anna, Gabriel, myself, Zeke, and Hael.”

“I didn’t know Zeke was the name of an angel.” _Of course I don’t know much about angels at all_ Dean continued to himself.

“It’s short for Ezekiel.”

“Got it. So Cas,” Dean paused for a moment as he opened up a binder on his desk. “Can I call you Cas?”

“Cas is fine,” Castiel told him, although no one had ever called him Cas before. To his family he was Cassie, and to his co-workers he was Castiel. Cas. It had a nice sound to it, especially coming off Dean’s lips.

“Grace is a wonderful girl. She’s creative and energetic, and I have never once had any behavior problems with her. However, there is one thing I’d like to discuss with you.”

Castiel nodded in agreement, he had a very good idea as to where Dean was going with this.

“Her schoolwork needs some improvement.” Dean paused and looked up from his binder, awaiting a reaction.

“I’ve been doing some research, looking at different things. I think she may be dyslexic.” Castiel paused waiting for the teacher to say something, to say anything. He simply nodded.

“I have noticed her struggling with letters, as well as numbers. I have been keeping an eye on her and I think the best thing we can do is to keep an eye on her and try to guide her along. One of the biggest problems dyslexics can face is frustration, because they think they have it right, but they don’t. If we can keep her from getting discouraged at such a young age, then I’d call that a success.”

“It’s a struggle, but many people have overcome it. Dyslexics have become scientists like Albert Einstein for example, or artists. Picasso was dyslexic. Then again, that might explain some things. Educators, teachers, anything.”

“I feel like it would be difficult to teach children about reading and writing if you struggle with it.”

“Difficult, but not impossible.” Dean’s eyes lowered down to his desk. “I mean, I teach your daughter don’t I?” His eyes stayed put, refusing to meet Castiel’s. There are a small handful of people who actually know Dean is dyslexic; a few teachers, Bobby, John and Chuck. Not even Sammy knew. So why did Dean just tell Castiel Novak, the awkward, single-dad accountant who Dean may or may not kind of sort of like? Oh wait, the liking part, that’s probably it.

“Wait,” Castiel paused. Dean looked up, just a little. “You’re dyslexic?”

“Yeah, I am. And actually you're one of like four people that know.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was uneasy, as if he was walking hot coals or broken glass or hot broken glassy coals. In a way, he was. For Dean, it hit home, hard. He hated talking about it, and that’s probably why only his father, their friend Bobby, and his boss knew about it. Dean just hoped that Castiel would deal with it a lot better than his father had. His father had told him “Get over it, Dean. I didn’t raise my boy to be a failure.” Dean figured he would, as Castiel had already proved himself a better father than John Winchester ever was and ever will be.

\------------------------

 At exactly 3:01, Noah was the last kid to leave the classroom. Dean waved goodbye with a smile, that turned into a sigh as he opened his back closet to grab his coat. He checked his phone to see a text from Sammy: _Can you meet me at the Hardy’s at 3:30? Gotta talk_. Dean replied with a “Sure, gotta talk too,” and slid his phone back into his pocket as he grabbed his bag and headed out to the parking lot.  There was still a handful of school buses outside, and plenty of kids playing on the playground as their parents sat and most likely gossiped nearby. Dean loved his job, he loved kids, he loved teaching, he loved seeing them smile. What he didn’t love were parents. Last year, when word got out that he was bisexual, he got swarmed with angry phone calls, emails, and parents threatening to pull kids out of his class. He knew that they talked about him, their kids tell him. Just last week Meghan said to him, “My mommy says you’re a bisexual, and she says that bisexuals are just greedy,” and that was not a discussion Dean was going to have with a six year old.

The door to Hardy’s Diner opened with a ding; he grabbed a seat in the corner booth and skimmed over the menu as he waited for Sam. A few door dings later, Sam walked in wearing a suit and tie and slid into the booth across from Dean, who was in jeans and a polo shirt.  

“Heya Sammy,” Dean smiled as he took another sip of his coffee.

“You ordered without me?”

“I was hungry. Plus I don’t know how you take your salad,” Dean smirked.

“Jerk,” his brother kicked him under the table.

“Bitch. Now what’d you want to talk about?”

“Um…it’s nothing really.”

“Pretty sure it’s something.” Dean had practically raised Sammy, he knew when it was something.

“I’ll take a side salad, and um, a grilled cheese” Sammy told the waitress when she approached the table, then turned back to Dean to say, “Fine, it is something. A big something.”

“Spit it out, Sammy.”

“Um, Dean. Jess is pregnant.” Sam swallowed. Dean froze.

“Wait. I’m going to be an uncle?” It was probably a good thing that Dean had just placed his coffee down, or else it would be all over the table, given that Dean practically jumped out of his seat to give Sammy a hug.

“Yes.”  Sam managed say despite his brother’s tightening grip.

“Congrats Sammy! I mean I think it’d be better if you actually had gotten married first, but wait how do you feel about it?”

“I’m happy, I really am. I’m also scared shitless.”

“Well I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure finding out you’re going to have a kid is a good reason to be scared shitless.”

“Thanks, Dean. I just had to get it off my chest, tell someone,” Sam smiled that dopey Sammy-smile. “Now what’d you want to talk to me about?” The smile faded from Dean’s face, then Sam’s, as Dean swallowed and said,

“Sammy listen, I gotta tell you something’”

“Dean, that’s what you said when you told me you swung both ways. You change your mind?” Sam raised an eyebrow as he took a forkful of salad.

“No,” Dean reached across the table to smack his brother on the back of the head. Sam knew he deserved it. “Still bisexual. This is completely unrelated. It’s something I’ve struggled with, well my whole life, and I really dunno why I never told you. I probably should’ve.”

“Dean, what is it?” Sam  knew that when Dean rambled, it meant something serious. Possibly more serious than him having a kid. Something like his coming out, or like that one time he called him from the hospital, or when he told him about his and Lisa’s split. Dean rambling never meant good news.

“It’s um…. Sammy, I’m uh…dyslexic.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Why Dean had struggled so much in school, why no matter how much he tried there were some things he could never get. It made sense as to why when Sam attempted to teach him some Latin, it didn’t go over well. It probably explained why Dean’s handwriting was a mess.

Sam knew Dean had always struggled with school work, and now he finally knew just how much, and why. Sam now knew how much effort and determination it must have took to teach him to read and write. He realized now how much work it must have been for Dean to help him with his school work all those times. Sam now knew why Dean would get so frustrated, why he’d punch walls, why John would yell, and why, on more than one occasion, Sam had to convince his brother to stay in school. All of it now made sense, all the pieces of the puzzle fit, and Sam Winchester had a whole new level of respect for his brother. Sam couldn’t put any of it into words, all he could manage was do is pull Dean into a hug and tell him “I’m proud of you,” and he’d never been more sincere about anything.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: SamJess baby was a spur of the moment "oh shit what does Sam have to talk to Dean about thing," but I'm excited about it, and Dean is going to be very excited to be an uncle. 
> 
> Updates on the progress will be on my [Tumblr](http://angelradios.tumblr.com/tagged/all-i-really-needed-to-know)
> 
> I am always looking for beta-readers, and feedback, so if you'd be interested a pre-read of the next chapter, [let me know](http://angelradios.tumblr.com/questions)


	4. The One With the Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time! Some Novak family intercation, Sam and Jess were there, and the title does say it all. There is in fact, a kiss.

Holiday parties with kindergarteners meant headaches, messes, sticky fingers and sticky desks. Dean hated it. Seeing the kids smile- now that, he loved. This time around, Eli and Jared’s moms and Sami’s dad were the “party volunteers”. They got name tags and everything. It’s a damn good thing that parents volunteer or else Dean would be royally screwed; a classroom of sugar-high kindergarteners was not the easiest thing to deal with. A few years ago Dean had realized the easiest way to deal with parties was stations: a couple craft stations, food station, and activity station. That way he avoided having a total free-fall.

The kids were divided up into their tables as usual. Eli’s mom was running a craft station, helping the kids glue googly eyes onto snowmen and make foam reindeer hats. Jared’s mom was helping the kids with holiday themed word-finds and coloring pages. Sami’s dad volunteered to read books, which worked out perfectly given that the man was a radio DJ. Dean got to help the kids decorate sugar cookies and regretted ever agreeing to have that as a station. Kindergarteners with tubes of frosting and sprinkles were messier than glitter, and Dean hates messes. The thing with messes is that a little soap and water and can get them cleaned up. Life isn’t like that. Dean finished cleaning the table and trying to get the glitter off his shirt before grabbing his coat and scarf and heading out the door.

It had started to snow, but not anything the Impala couldn’t handle. He turned up the heat and the radio. Of course, every station was playing holiday songs. It was Let it Snow to Santa Baby and Dean wanted to scream. He grabbed the closest cassette and shoved it in the player before he had to hear one more song about snow or Santa. Dean didn’t really hate Christmas; he just didn’t love it like most people do. The only thing he did enjoy about the holiday was dinner with his family- Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Sam, Jess, Adam, and Adam’s mom- but he had dinner with them often enough. To boil it all down, Dean didn’t really understand the point of Christmas.

The snow had picked up and the sun was starting to fall when he parked on Sam’s street, grabbed the gift that had been sitting in his passenger seat, and climbed the stairs to his and Jess’ apartment. It’s a nice building in a nice neighborhood, surrounded by little shops and restaurants. They loved living here. Dean was sure they wouldn’t be staying here that much longer; there’s not really enough room for a baby in a one bedroom loft.

“Sam! Sam! Open the door!” Dean’s fist fell against the door to his brother’s apartment three times before it swung open.

“Hello Dean, Merry Christmas,” Jess greeted him with a warm smile. Her wavy blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, but no matter how messy her hair was, she was always beautiful.

“You too, Jess,” Dean smiled back and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and pushing her bangs out of her eyes. Of all the uncertainties, what ifs, and maybes in Dean’s life, there was one thing he did know. He loved Jessica Moore like a little sister, and he never wanted to let her go. “Sam!”  Dean broke away from the hug and gave an excited smile to his brother, as if he hadn’t seen him in months.

“What are you…?” Sam began to question, but Dean cut him off.

“You texted me,” Dean reminded him, pulling out his phone to show the evidence. _I’m picking you up at 4:30, going to the mall I need your help_ , the text read.

“Yeah, and I said I’d pick you up,” Sam pointed it out just in case Dean couldn’t find the “I’m picking you up” part of the text.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like your car. We’re taking mine.” Sam just shook his head. Dean didn’t like any car but his own.

“Okay, what’s in the bag?” Sam felt the need to ask. Dean looked up as if he just realized he was carrying a bag.

“I bought you guys something,” Dean handed the bag to Jess, “Go ahead open it!”

“Aw, Dean, this is so sweet,” Jess pulled out the card first, which read Congrats on the miracle. She pulled out a onesie next before handing it to Sam.

“Honey, did you even read it?” Sam asked her as he read what the onesie said, and couldn’t help but shake his head because it was oh so Dean. _My Uncle will teach me the fun stuff._

“Really, Dean?” Jess turned to her future brother-in-law, who gave an enthusiastic nod.

“Really. There’s something else too,” Dean told her. Jess dug through the bag, pulled out a mug, read it over, and laughed.

“What does it say?” Sam asked, worried. He knew his brother well enough to understand that his type of humor wasn’t always the best.

 _“Tests have shown that I am without a doubt the greatest uncle in the history of absolutely everything ever. I am top Uncle. Ohh yes,”_  Jess read out loud

“Why?” Sam asked, given that neither he nor Jess are uncles.

“So you don’t have to buy one for the kid to give me, you’ll already have it,” Dean explained, quite proud of himself.

"You gave this to us for the sole purpose of getting it back one day?” Sam checked.

“Yep,” Dean nodded with a grin. Sam just shook his head.

“Well thank you, Dean,” Jess packed up the bag before adding, “This is our first baby gift.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m happy for you, and if you ever need anything, I’m your guy,” Dean told them with a grin on his face. He was happy for them, happy for Sam, proud of Sam, and really glad to have such a great brother who found such a remarkable women to spend his life with.

“You can be our go-to babysitter,” Jess smiled as she pushed the boys out the door. Dean couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

\-----------------------------------

He may have let Sam drag him to some jewelry store, he may have let Sam buy him a salad of all things to go with his lunch, but there was no way in hell Sammy could convince him to go visit Santa Claus.

“Come on, Dean, when was the last time you even said hi to a Santa Claus?” Sam nudged his brother towards the line outside Santa’s Workshop.

“Never,” Dean told him.

“Bullshit.” Sam had some vague memories of him and Dean visiting Santa.

“Yes shit, Sammy. I have never said hello to Santa or sat on his lap. I was too busy keeping you convinced he was real.” Sam could see his brother tensing up; he went to place a hand on Dean’s shoulders, only to have it slapped away. He began to say, “Dean,” but before he could finish Dean snapped, “Sam. Just drop it. You still haven’t gotten a gift for Jess’ parents. Isn’t that why we’re here?” Dean began to walk away.

“Right.” Sam nodded and followed behind.

Dean didn’t want to think about it.  The first time he had a real Christmas was when he was 22, and that was with Bobby. Dean had spent his childhood Christmases keeping Sammy’s belief in Santa alive. Sometimes it meant finding whatever loose change he could  and going through John’s wallet, which was usually empty. Other times it meant swiping something from the dollar store, or using one of John’s credit cards to order something. It was all worth it to see the look on the kid’s face.  Dean found out Santa wasn’t real when he was five, his first Christmas without his mom. He had sent Santa a letter, telling him that all he wanted for Christmas was his mom to be back and dad to stop drinking. He never got a response, and when he told John, all he said was, “That’s because Santa doesn’t exist, you dumbass.” Dean didn’t cry. Dean couldn’t cry, he couldn’t be upset, he couldn’t let it show. When John passed out drunk hours later, five-year-old Dean dug through his father’s pockets for loose change and wandered down to the lobby of their apartment building. He stood on his tip toes and put those coins in the vending machine one by one, and he had just enough to get one candy bar. That way he knew he’d at least have something for Christmas, even if he had to get it himself.

Jess had put Sam in charge of getting her parents a Christmas gift. Dean had no idea why she did, but she had and that’s why they found themselves wandering through almost every store in the mall.

“Well, they like plants, and, uh, gardening and stuff,” Sam had told Dean when asked what the Moores liked.

“Have you told them you’re having a kid yet?” Dean asked as he thought of an idea.

“No, why?”

“Get them something that tells them that. C’mon Sammy.” Dean grabbed his brother by the arm and lead the way. “A world’s best grandparents thing or something!” Dean told his brother as they entered Target and wandered toward the baby section.

Dean had never been a fan of baby sections of stores. They always reminded him of two things: how much he loved kids, and how he never wanted to have any. It wasn’t actually as if he didn’t want kids,  but that he couldn’t want kids. There were no problems biologically or physically; all that was in supreme working condition. Mentally, Dean Winchester believed he could never be a father, and that was all his father’s fault. They say you raise your kids like your parents raised you, and Dean would never take that chance. He wasn’t worried about Sam. He practically raised Sam himself, and so long as he did a good job, Sam would too. Dean loves kids, he loves seeing them laugh and smile and see their faces light up with excitement. He likes comforting them and wiping away tears and solving their problems.  He would hate to see those tears be because of him, and he’s never going to risk it.

“Dean! What do you think of this!” Dean turned to see his brother, hair flopped over his face, bright smile, and in his hands a picture frame that read: Grandparents: hands to hold, hearts of gold. “We can put in an ultrasound!” Sam suggested.

“Sounds like a good plan, Sammy,” Dean told him, unable to tell if his own smile was real or fake. Sammy’s was definitely real, as it always had been. Dean, however, had become an expert on fake smiles, so much so that he couldn’t even tell when he was faking anymore.

He did know that when he heard a familiar voice calling his name and hugging his leg, the smile on his face was completely kosher.

“Dean! What are you doing here!”

“Well, Grace, even teachers go shopping,” Dean pulled Grace Novak off his leg, and smiled up at her dad. Castiel smiled black. He was more causal than Dean had ever seen him. There was no tie, no black slacks, and no trench coat. Instead, there were worn, but not ripped jeans, a light blue collared shirt, and a plain t-shirt that could be seen underneath, and it was hot as hell. It’s been said that seeing teachers outside of classrooms is strange, but seeing students and parents outside the classroom was pretty strange as well. Dean swallowed in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Hi, Cas,” he managed to say.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas offered a hand to shake. Dean accepted. Sam coughed.

“Um, Cas, Grace, this is my brother, Sam. Sammy, this is one of my students, Grace, and her father, Castiel,” Dean introduced them.

“It’s Sam. Dean’s the only one who calls me Sammy. Nice to meet you,” Sam nodded at the Novaks.

“Dean! Happy Christmas Eve!” Like usual, Grace was an energetic ball of smiles. Dean wondered if she ever slept.

“You too, Grace, and Cas,”

“You have any plans for tonight?” Castiel asked.

“No, I mean Christmas Eve we tend to do our own thing. Sam and Jess together, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Adam and his mom, and then there’s me.

“Who are Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Adam?” Grace asked simply out of curiosity.

“Bobby is like our father, Ellen is his wife, Jo is her daughter, and Adam is our half brother.” Sam told her.

“Oh, thanks,” she smiled. “You’re tall!” she told him, as if he didn’t hear that enough. Sam was towering over Dean by the time he was fifteen.

“So, Christmas Eve, just you?” Cas turned to Dean.

“Well, just me, and my heated up leftovers.” he explained. When he said it out loud it sounded pretty pitiful. Then again, it actually was.

“DADDY! Can Dean come over?” Grace yanked on her father’s pant leg.

“Dean, Grace and I are hosting our Christmas Eve dinner, and we’d both love it if you could join us.”

“Who is ‘us’? You and your, what, five siblings?” Dean tried to recall exactly how many Novak children there were.

“Us,” Castiel gestured to himself and Grace, “my parents, Anna, Gabriel, Hael and Zeke. Everyone but Michael.”

“Cas, I couldn’t intrude.” Christmas was about family. The Novaks were family, Dean was not. He began to turn away, only to be pushed back by his brother.

“Yes, he can,” Sam exclaimed. Sam knew his brother, and he had a pretty good idea that Dean just may like this guy, and he wasn’t about to let his brother’s stubborn pride get in the way of a relationship.

“Sammy.”

“What?” Sam asked innocently.

“Stop talking.” Dean told him. He did, but only for a moment.

“Dean, you wouldn’t be intruding at all. We’d love to have you,” Castiel assured.

“And he’d love to go,” Sam spoke for his brother, and Dean didn’t appreciate it.

“Don’t you have shopping to do?” Sam knew Dean was trying to get rid of him, but he wasn’t going anywhere

“All done.” Sam grabbed the picture frame from Dean’s hands to prove his point. Dean knew he wouldn’t get Sam of his back. He knew his best option was to give in, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Okay, Cas I’ll be there.”

“Here, let me give you my address. Do you have a pen?” Castiel asked. Dean pulled a pen out of his back pocket and bit the cap off. Castiel couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose just to frustrate him. Dean scribbled down the address on his hands, waved goodbye to Castiel, and managed to pull Grace off his leg for long enough to get away. He headed off with Sam, who couldn’t stop giving him the “Dean has a crush” look. Dean waited until they were outside to slap his brother across the back of the head.

\----------------------------------

When Dean got home he started pacing. Yes, Dean Winchester was pacing. He paced his living room, his kitchen, his bedroom. He started blasting Led Zeppelin. He started rummaging through his closet, pulling out every possible outfit. He was a mess. He was having dinner with Castiel and he couldn’t even pull himself together. Fuck. He was a mess. His room was a mess. Dammit, Dean, breathe. This isn’t even a date, okay. Calm down. He told himself as he reached for his phone and dialed, hoping that Jess would pick up her phone. She did.

“JessJessJessJess,” he managed to get out.

“DeanDeanDeanDean,” Jess mocked him, as usual.

“I need your help.” Usually, Dean could dress himself, but today he’d be lucky if he could tie his shoes.

“With?” He remembered he hadn’t told her his problem yet.

“What the fuck do I wear?” Dean asked.

“Probably clothes. You got a date?” Some days Dean enjoyed her sarcasm, today was not that day.

“NO. No no no. Just dinner, with a friend.”  Who I really like and wish was more than a friend and I want to grab his face and kiss him Dean thought before Jess’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Just a friend?”

“Jess, come on, help me out!” Just drop the subject Dean.

“Fine, fine, what about your grey sweater? The one with the buttons?” The fact that Jess knew what clothes he owned said something about how often he called her asking what to wear. Lately it hadn’t been that often.

“Okay.” Dean dug around the pile of clothes on the floor and found the sweater he was looking for.

“And a white shirt underneath, with a red tie,” Jess continued.

“Red for Christmas?” Jess had a thing for colors, probably one of the reasons she’s an interior designer.

“Of course. And Dean? Last time I checked, you don’t get this flustered for just a Christmas Eve dinner with a friend.”

“I’m not flustered!” Dean forcefully stated. He was not flustered. Dean Winchester did not get flustered.

“Sam told me how you acted at the store today, add that with how you’re acting now. If that’s not flustered then what is?”

“Sam’s exaggerating,” Dean argued. Although, given the two of them, Dean has always been the bigger exaggerator.

“I don’t think so,” Jess claimed. Once again, she was right.

“Fine, okay, I like him, I think. But I can’t do shit about it because his daughter’s in my class, and that’s gotta be against the rules and the backlash would be awful and he doesn’t even swing that way and...” The words kept flowing, and Dean didn’t know how to make them stop.

“Dean. Dean, You’re rambling. Just get dressed. Make sure your shoes are on the right feet. Spike your hair up a bit, have fun on your not-a-date and don’t do anything stupid!”

“Thanks, Jess.” Dean hung up phone. He pulled off his t-shirt over his head and went to unbuckle his pants. His jeans and boxers fell to the ground. He grabbed a towel off the back of his door and hung it on the rack as he stepped into the shower.

He pulled on a pair of khakis and a belt, leaving it undone. Socks were next, then a tank top. Dean grabbed the white shirt Jess mentioned and slipped it on, one arm at a time. A bright red tie was looped around his neck. Dean couldn’t even remember a time when he didn’t know how to tie a tie; he had to tie his dad’s so John would look decent at job interviews. The shirt was buttoned and tucked in before Dean pulled the sweater over his head. Using Jess’s advice, he left all three of the sweater’s buttons undone. Dean looked in his mirror and let out a deep sigh. He never used to like getting dressed up in any way, probably because his father had always told him that men who thought about what they wore were “sissies” and not man enough for John Winchester. Dean knew better now. He ran a comb through his hair and spiked up the front a bit before slipping on his watch. There was nothing fancy about it, just a worn leather band and a silver clock face. It may not be a gold Rolex, but it ticked just right.

He grabbed his keys and phone from his dresser, as well as the piece of paper where he had scribbled the Novaks’ address. He took one more deep breath before heading out of his apartment and into his car. This is not a date, he repeated to himself as he drove.

\----------------------------

Dean’s hand had barely knocked when a young girl with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, clad in a red dress with a matching hair bow, was swinging the door open and tightly gripping Dean’s leg.

“Dean! You’re here!” Grace yelled as she removed herself from his leg and grabbed his hand. “C’mon! Almost everyone is here!” She pulled him towards the kitchen area. Dean let her.

“This is Dean, my teacher!” she announced to everyone. “You know daddy,” she told Dean, who looked to where she was pointing to see Castiel smiling at him. “This is Aunt Anna, and Uncle Zeke, and Aunt Hael, and Grandma and Grandpa, and Uncle Gabe isn’t here yet!” Grace finished with a loud sigh.

“Did I not receive the red tie memo?” asked Zeke, a tall man with a deep voice. Dean noticed that he and Castiel were wearing the same color tie.

“Well, Zeke, it is Christmas and red is Christmas color,” Hael pointed out.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas had pushed his way past his siblings to greet him. “I’m glad you could make it. I believe Grace has already introduced everyone.”  Grace had already run off and was in the living room dancing to some Christmas songs with Anna. “That is Anna, my older sister, and of course Zeke and Hael, the youngest of us all. Gabriel should be here soon; he does have a problem with punctuality. These are my parents, Zachariah and Naomi.”

“It’s great to meet you all. Grace is a wonderful girl, and Cas is a great guy.” Dean shook hands with everyone who remained in the kitchen.

“Since when do people call you Cas? Cassie.” Hael smiled at her brother. Her long hair matched Castiel’s dark brown color, and her eyes were a less bright blue. Her dress wasn’t as Christmas-y as it was winter. It was a pale blue with some lace around the shoulders. Hael was a snowstorm, beautiful and dangerous all in one.

“Hael...” was all Cas had to say to get her to stop talking. Zeke gave Dean a once over as one hand adjusted his gold tie and the other reached for a cookie, only to be slapped away by his mother who reminded him, “Not until after dinner.”

“Dean, can I offer you anything to drink?” Zach Novak asked, “We have water, as well as red and white wine, and some milk.”

“I guess I’ll have some red then.” Dean wasn’t much of a wine guy, but maybe the alcohol could calm him down a bit.

“Hael, Zeke, can you set the table? We’ll eat when Gabe gets here,” Cas asked of his siblings.

“What’s for dinner?” Dean asked from where he was sitting at the counter as Castiel and his mom worked in the kitchen.

“Baked ziti. Usually we do the traditional fish dinner, but it got a little messed up this year.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”  Dean was used to holidays getting messed up. There was time when John decided he had better things to do than be home on Christmas, and when he got arrested on Halloween by getting drunk and shooting a loaded gun into the air. However, Dean was pretty sure the Novaks’ version of messed up was a lot different than his.

“Zeke forgot to pick up the fish, and my parents won’t get fish from anyone but the local butcher, and his shop isn’t open today,” Anna sat down on a stool next to Dean. “Hi, I’m Anna,” she introduced herself and offered a hand to shake. “He’s sorry though,” she told Dean.  A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

“Hey, family!” Gabriel Novak shouted as he let himself into the house. There were shouts of “Gabe!” and “Hello, brother!” as well as “Uncle Gabe!” as the family seemed to dog pile him into a hug.

“Merry Christmas!” He told them all once they let him breathe. He was wearing a tacky Christmas sweater, but from what little Dean knew of him, it matched his personality.

“Who’s car is that out front? The Impala?” he asked, purely curious.

“Mine,” Dean stated.

“She’s yours?” Gabriel turned to Dean as if he didn’t hear him the first time. “And you are?”

“Gabriel, this is Dean Winchester. He’s Grace’s teacher and a friend.”  Cas explained as he pulled a pan out of the oven.

“Yeah, she’s mine,” Dean told him again.

“She looks great, where’d you get her?” Gabriel asked.

“Well, I think once you fix a car up that much you should get to keep her,” Dean told the truth. The Impala was like an abused dog; once someone beats it up bad and you take her in and heal her, she becomes yours.

“How much is ‘that much’? How bad was she?” Anna shook her head at her brothers, last time she checked a car wasn’t a human being, and wasn’t a “she” but an “it”.

“She got totaled. That’s what happens when she gets driven into the wrong lane and hit by an 18-wheeler.” The Impala used to belong to his father; John bought her new in 1967. John was drunk, and totaled her, yet somehow he survived. Dean had worked night and day to rebuild her. Sammy had told him it was impossible, but if one word could describe Dean Winchester, it would be stubborn. “I rebuilt her.” Dean smiled. His baby and Sammy were his two proudest accomplishments.

“Nice job,” Gabriel complimented him with a pat on the back as he made his way to the table, and they all dug in to eat. The dinner conversation included Dean Winchester, everyone’s jobs, Michael Novak, Grace’s education, and of course Jesus Christ. Dean never realized how religious the Novaks were until he had no idea what they were talking about because he had never read the Bible. Somehow, he managed to make it through the night without making himself look like a complete idiot. When he looked at the time and realized it was 9:00PM, he figured he should probably leave the Novaks to their own family. He gave Grace a hug goodbye and told her he’d see her next year. He thanked them all for dinner, waved goodbyes, smiled at Castiel and got up to leave. He managed to open the door to the Impala before he noticed Castiel on the front porch telling him to wait.

“You forgot your phone,” Cas held out the device in his hand when Dean ran back to the porch.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled, “and thanks for having me, it was nice,”

“It was just ziti, Dean,”

“Yeah but….” Dean couldn’t figure out how to put “I wasn’t alone” into words that didn’t make him sound so desperate for human contact. “For once I wasn’t the awkward third wheel.

“As in with your brother and his fiancé?” Castiel took a step closer to Dean and began to hand him back his phone before adding, “You get lonely, don’t you, Dean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean closed the space between him and Castiel, his hand reaching for his phone, and lingering maybe just a little too long. His green eyes met Castiel’s blue, their hands still lingering as they leaned into each other and their lips gently touched. The kiss deepened and their fingers intertwined around Dean’s phone. It was the best kiss either of them had had in a long time.

Dean couldn’t quite tell who started it, but he did know that the moment it hit them that they were standing on Castiel’s front porch with their lips on each others’, he broke it apart. “Sonofabitch” Dean swore.

“That was inappropriate.” Castiel pointed out.

Dean didn’t know if he meant the kissing or the swearing or both.  Neither of them had time to say anything after that; Dean was back in the car and out of the driveway before Castiel had even processed what had happened.

\---------------------------------

Dean didn’t get much sleep that night, and neither did Castiel. The difference was, Castiel was woken up by an excited five year old at 6:00 in the morning, and Dean wasn’t woken at all, because he hadn’t slept. Dean got up around 8:00, the same time Grace was ripping the paper off a new set of coloring books and Cas was watching with a broad smile on his face. Dean finished wrapping presents around 9:00, the same time as Castiel realized that he really needed to talk to Dean, so he tossed Grace in her car seat and drove towards where the white pages said Dean Winchester lived. He stopped at Gabe’s on the way, and offered a few words before taking off again, this time with his back seat empty. It was around 10:00 when Dean was making more coffee and sitting down in attempt to find something other than Christmas movies on TV. It was 10:15 when there was a knock on his door.

“Cas what are you…how do you know where I ….?” Dean stood in shock in his doorway, wearing nothing but boxers and an old t-shirt.

“Dean, we both know that we need to talk, and white pages gave me your address,” Cas explained.

“About last night,” Dean assumed that’s what Cas meant.

“Yes, about last night,” Cas took a step closer to Dean, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“It was mistake. We can’t. I can’t.” Dean tried to make sense of it all, but his brain was spinning and nothing made sense anymore.

“Yes,”  Castiel agreed as he took one more step into the apartment.

“A complete mistake,” Dean practically whispered as he closed the space between them by pressing his lips to Castiel’s. His brain was screaming at him, telling him how wrong this was, how he shouldn’t, he couldn’t. But how could something wrong ever feel so right?  He felt Cas against his lips, his chest, his hands on his waist. Dean told his brain to shut the fuck up as he kicked the door closed and pulled Castiel in **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank all of you for the wonderful feedback and support, it means so much to me. 
> 
> Fun Fact: this is the longest chapter yet, I'm estimating the fic will be around 55K total
> 
> Updates on the progress will be on my [Tumblr](http://angelradios.tumblr.com/tagged/all-i-really-needed-to-know)
> 
> I am always looking for beta-readers, and feedback, so if you'd be interested a pre-read of the next chapter, [let me know](http://angelradios.tumblr.com/questions)


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